


Give a Bear A Pot of Honey

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Crying Michael, No shipping, dont worry bb, fatherly jack, just general care and friendship, papa jack is there for you, pissed off michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is in a rage like no other in the office, and it seems like none of the men can calm him. But Jack has dealt with it before, and he knows Michael just needs a shoulder to cry on.<br/>My first non-shippy fic and I'm very proud of it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give a Bear A Pot of Honey

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prompt from my tumblr <3 want to see short stories that i dont post here? go to alittlebitgayandmore.tumblr.com

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF FUCKING FUCK GOD FUCKING DAMMIT FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT I’M DONE!" The string of curses were followed by several loud banging noises, barely muffled by the wooden door separating the raging Jersey man from the rest of his crew, the latter of which were standing nervously outside.

"I’LL FUCKING DESTROY THIS PIECE OF SHIT!" They heard screamed out and Geoff sighed in annoyance.

"Fuck. Are we gonna lose another X-Box?" He muttered quietly and the men shrugged, not daring to make a noise lest they piss the furious hurricane that was Michael off even more. "… I’m going in." Ryan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and Geoff returned it with a curt nod. They all knew that when Michael fell over the brink of his ever-prominent emotions and into the blind fury he was enacting onto the office, he had to be handled delicately.

Geoff inched the door open slowly, popping his head in with his signature lazy grin. “Hey, buddy. How ya doin in here?” His voice was cheery with the smallest hint of sympathy, as it had been when he jested over the supposedly depressed Enderman in one of their Minecraft Let’s Plays.

"HOW THE FUCK DOES IT LOOK, GEOFF?!" The boys got a quick peek in and saw Michael standing in the center of the room, his body rigid and in an offensive stance, arms out and hands balled into fists. His curly auburn hair stuck out wildly as if he had been pulling on it and a snarl was etched on his face, chestnut eyes on fire. He held a fan-made stuffed toy in his hands; most of the body in his left hand, a limb in the right, and several particles of fuzz substance scattered at his feet. His breaths came out in angry huffs from his flared nostrils and gritted teeth.

If looks could kill, everyone in the office would have died horribly at that very moment.

"R-right. Dumb question." Geoff muttered, shutting the door carefully. The rage was so thick, even his admiration and loyalty towards his boss couldn’t break through.

"Okay then. Who’s next?" Geoff shrugged as he turned back to the other Achievement Hunters.

"I’m out." Ryan opted. "I’m not his closest friend here so I’d probably only make things worse." Geoff nodded and the younger Gent wandered off towards the kitchen, mumbling something about coffee.

"I could try!" Gavin perked up, green eyes sparkling. "I’m his boi, after all!"

"Err, Vav? Are you sure you can do it without just pissing him off more?" Ray asked, cocking an eyebrow. Gavin only scoffed, waving him away with a flourish of his long, tanned fingers.

"C’mon, X-Ray, I got this!" He winked before mimicking Geoff’s previous motion and sticking only his head in. He flashed a radiant grin, showing off perfectly straight teeth.

"Hello my little Micoo!" He cooed, putting emphasis on the older man’s name. "I’ve come to cheer you-"

"GAVIN I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T GO THE FUCK AWAY, I’M GOING TO BEAT THE EVER-LIVING FUCK OUT OF YOUR DUMB BRITISH ASS!" Michael threw a stuffed limb at the younger lad, the amputated appendage bouncing off of his large nose.

"Well, I can see you’re extremely busy. Wouldn’t want to interrupt!" He retreated and slammed the door shut quickly, hearing another bang behind him. His eyes were wide as he turned to face the other men.

"That didn’t go well." He sighed out and the others stifled laughter.

"I guess I’m up, then." Jack stepped up confidently. "Why don’t you guys go get lunch? I’ll have him calmed down before you come back." He spoke confidently, though he had a faint look of uncertainty in the way his brow furrowed.

"You sure you got this?" Geoff grimaced. "Because we have to record after lunch, and we don’t need him to still be like this for that."

Jack smirked. “Geoff, you forget I lived with this guy for a while. I dealt with this every once in a while.” His boss nodded before shooing the other lads away, offering to buy them lunch at Taco Bell and being met with a cheer. Jack chuckled to himself before quietly opening the office door, slipping inside wordlessly.

He stood there for a moment, watching as Michael tore at the now-unrecognizable Banjo Kazooie plush in his broad hands, fluff decorating his body as if it had snowed in the office.

He let the door click shut, letting his presence be known finally.

"Gavin, I swear to fucking GO-.. oh, hi Jack." Michael stopped mid-screaming, surprised to see his old friend standing there.

"Hey, Michael. C’mere." He sat down on the couch, patting the area beside him. The younger man hesitated, torn between his urge to tear the office apart and oblige to his former-roommate’s request, his motions jerky as he flopped down hard onto the soft cushion, worn out from Ryan working there, sleeping/ridiculous cuddle sessions (mostly between Gavin and Geoff) between recordings, and countless attacks on one another that had led to full-out wrestling matches (usually ending with a whining Brit).

Michael let out an angry huff, crossing his arms and feeling remarkably like a child throwing a tantrum but not caring in the slightest.

"It’s okay, Michael." Jack whispered softly, nudging the Jersey boy’s shoulder with his own softly and offering a kind smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. Michael looked back and Jack could see the anger visibly shed away, one layer at a time, in a slow, agonizing process. Jack knew what came after the anger, and he was prepared for it when it finally happened after five minutes of solid silence.

Michael cried.

He leaned against Jack like a son looking for comfort from a father, though their age difference was small, and Jack wrapped his arms around him, using his thumb to rub little soothing circles into the young man’s back as his shoulders shook slightly with sobs.

Michael was an emotional guy, anyone in the world could tell that, but his anger was really only a front for everything else; his sadness, his pain, his stress, he transmitted them to rage to shield himself, and sometimes it just had to come out. The only person he trusted enough to break in front of was Jack, and the mutual understanding between the two was something never spoken of.

"Shhh. It’s alright, Michael." Jack repeated in his best fatherly tone, his low voice rumbling soft and kind as Michael’s sobs subsided, his head still buried in Jack’s chest. He stayed there for a while, even after the tears had stopped, reveling in the familiar human touch that felt of compassion and real, genuine care for what it held.

He pulled back and his eyes sparkled with old tears and the happiness that usually accompanied Michael off-camera. He gave a weak half-smile, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Thanks, Jack. I needed that. It’s… it’s been a while since I got a good cry out, y’know?" He hunched forward, resting his arms on his knees and looking straight ahead.

"I understand, Michael. We all need to let it out sometimes." They sat in comfortable, companionship silence for a couple more minutes before Jack elbowed him.

"If I remember correctly, and you know I do, we always used to get ice cream afterwards."

Michael snickered, reaching a hand up to pat down his curls. “Jack, I’m a twenty-six year old man.”

"So… no ice cream?" Jack pretended to look downtrodden, but a sly grin was visible behind his beard.

"You bet your ass we’re getting ice cream."

**Author's Note:**

> Loved this shit? Hated it more than your nOTP? tell me why, tell me where i fucked up, i wanna hear it all! leave me comments and/or kudos, reading comments good and bad really brighten up my shitty little day ;)
> 
> Good artist? Bad artist? Never drawn? Make fanart anyways! I will cry. But happily. But I will seriously cry.


End file.
